


One Dollar and Two Cents

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2019 [8]
Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Begging, Blood Drinking, Bottom Marco Diaz, Creampie, Established Relationship, Humor, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Mild Blood, Multiple Orgasms, One Shot, Overstimulation, Smut, Top Tom Lucitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 17:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20952497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 8. Blood/Gore |Prostitution/Sex Work | Fisting| Hate-fucking/Angry SexTom gets really mad. Marco tries to calm him down. It backfires spectacularly.





	One Dollar and Two Cents

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> Kinda gets slightly dub-con but I’d say Marco’s still into it. ;]

Marco is startled from his game by a sudden red flash of light and sound from the corner of his eye. He jumps, slamming the tablet down onto his bed as he looks up.

“Tom?”

The demon doesn’t even turn to look at him, ear just flicking the tiniest bit in automatic recognition.

Oh shit, he’s pissed, isn’t he?

Marco sits up on the edge of his bed, trying to make his tone soft but not condescending, encouraging but not kiss-ass—shit this is hard already. “What’s the matter, buddy?”

Tom’s hands curl into fists.

Aw fuck, it was the “buddy” wasn’t it?

An unnaturally deep voice finally pierces the room, seeming unearthly, “**What’s the matter? What’s the ** ** _fucking _ ** **matter?**”

He turns, revealing a face of pure fury, brows furrowed to a sharp point at the centre, eyes glowing a lurid red, a long finger seeming to point right at Marco’s beating heart.

“**I’ll tell you what’s the fucking matter!**”

Tom opens his hand and a black leather wallet suddenly appears in it with a poof, dark claws ruffling through it for a good half minute as Marco just sits in silence, occasionally glancing at the floor for the slight awkwardness.

“Fucking, just gotta…” Tom mutters in his normal voice, “just gotta find it… give me a moment–”

“**This!**” Tom finally says as the wallet disappears, a green bill hanging from one hand and a coin nestled in the other.

Marco glances to the side, then tilts his head slightly. “Money? I don’t think I really…”

“**She fucked me, Marco!**”

“What!”

“Not literally, I just mean–**She fucking ripped me off! Cheap bitch fucking cheated me!**”

_ “Who?” _

“**The cashier at the gas station, I asked for some gum and pop and gave her a five and the change was supposed to be two dollars and seven cents but she only gave me a fucking dollar and a nickel!**”

Marco tries his best not to laugh.

“I, uh,” he says, hiding his mouth in his hand, “I don’t think she did it on purpo–”

“**Of course she did! You filthy fucking humans, you’re all a bunch of petty liars and thieves, disgusting pathetic creatures!**”

“Hey!” Marco snaps, _ “I’m _a human, you know, Tom!”

“Well, maybe you’re the exception but–**Horrible! Gah, it makes me want to just burn this fucking planet to ashes!**” he shouts, throwing his hands up as the cash just disappears, presumably back into his wallet in… wherever that shit goes.

“Tom,” Marco tries, holding his hands up carefully, “it’s just one dollar and two cents. It’s not the end of the world.”

Tom takes a sudden heavy stomp forward, scaring Marco enough to flinch, “**Are you saying I’m making a big deal out of nothing?**” he says past gritted teeth.

“No, no, no!” Marco sputters, mind racing, “Just, uh, where’s, um, where’s your coach, uh, Brian, w-was his name, right?”

Tom seethes. “**He’s on vacation.**”

Oh God no.

Tom marches forward with steps heavy enough to rattle the floorboards, Marco unable to resist the instinct to lean back as his enraged face draws closer and closer.

Oh God, oh fuck, what the fuck should he do, what the fuck is he going to do–

Tom veers to the left, and Marco watches, mouth agape, as a large hole is punched into his wall by demon fists.

“Tom! What the f–”

The wall repairs itself as quickly as it had broken, even the dust flying back to settle into the hole and render it perfectly smooth, like nothing had even happened at all.

Oh, thank God, his parents wouldn’t kill him after a–

“Tom!”

The demon smashes the wall again in exactly the same spot before healing it before doing it all over again, just again and again and again, fist lightning fast as it pummels the drywall.

“**God! Damm! It! That! Fuck! Ing! Bitch!**” he yells, accenting every syllable with a thundering fist.

“Tom!” Marco shouts, wondering how the fuck his knuckles weren’t breakin–Oh right, he’s a demon–wondering how much that must hurt his hand, thinking quickly for a way, any way, to make him stop, before his brain snaps on something that just _ might _ work.

“Tom, fuck me!”

His demon boyfriend stops suddenly mid-swing, head snapping over his shoulder in a fashion that would certainly break a human’s neck. “**What?**”

Marco can only manage a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches Tom’s body slowly catch up with the rest of him. “Uh, it’s just, you know, th-there’s other ways of taking out your anger than just punching a wall over and over again…”

“**What ** ** _exactly _ ** **did you say, though?**”

Marco flushes, twiddling his thumbs. “Uh, I said… I sa–_fuck, _ f-fuck me, Tom…”

Tom’s rage is replaced with traces of confusion on his face, fists uncurling slightly. “**You want me to fuck you? Right now?**”

Marco makes himself nod. “Um, yeah, I mean, if you want to, if you think that’ll hel–”

Tom’s maniacal laughter drowns him out, “Aw, fuck, really, Diaz? That’s the _ first _thing you think of to calm me down?”

“What?!”

His boyfriend smiles slyly, beginning to stride over to the bed, “Not an ice-cold bath, not singing a tune, not taking a nap, but _ fucking you?” _He guffaws.

Marco crosses his arms before a clawed hand comes down upon one, pressing slightly.

**“Don’t worry,” ** Tom says with that scary demon voice, ** “I’ll fuck you, Marco.”**

He snaps his lilac fingers and suddenly Marco feels a cool draft settling over all of his body, thinking nothing of it for a second until he realizes the absolutely wicked sneer on Tom’s face, his red eyes drifting all over Marco’s body.

He looks down and, yep, he’s fucking completely naked.

Fucking stupidly powerful fucking evil demon boyfriend.

And then suddenly there’s a body crashing down on his, searing hot, crushing him, pinning him to his small bed, wetness laving at his throat, needle-thin nails running up and down his naked sides enough to prick the skin but nothing more than that, at least not yet.

Marco starts to whine, “T-To–”

**“Shh,”** a gravelly voice rumbles right into his ear, seeming almost to come from directly inside of his head–actually, Tom might literally be doing that, so Marco doesn’t even know anymore, **“just let me ** ** _have my way._ ** _ ” _ He snickers awfully evilly.

Fingers slick with something brush against his hole.

_ Already? _

They breach him anyway, three thick fingers already pressing inside of him and making him whimper.

Tom stretches him out quickly, scissoring his long fingers, not even trying to find his prostate to elicit some pleasure for poor Marco who whines and writhes beneath him as little as he can with Tom holding him down with his other arm, pinning him with his larger body.

The sensation of fullness is the only real pleasure Marco gets at that moment, otherwise just being riddled with pain and discomfort as he’s forced to widen so harshly, pinpricks of pain from Tom’s busy claws and teeth only adding to the displeasure.

And then, all too soon, Tom’s fingers slip out, leaving strings of lube connected to Marco’s now slightly gaping hole.

_ Oh okay, so now he’s going to do something else and then finger me again, because there’s just no wa– _

A blunt, thick, hot thing presses against his rim, and Marco would frown at Tom if he weren’t too busy moaning.

It pushes in, making him cry out as his hole still not properly acclimated for such a thick part stretches instantly. Tom groans above him, sinking razor-sharp teeth into the juncture of his neck almost as though to hold him still.

Tom ignores Marco’s sounds of pain, just keeps thrusting his long cock in until it finally reaches the base, sighing at the tight, tight pleasure around him which begins to melt the remnants of his fury–hey, what was he even mad about–oh, that’s right, that fucking smart ass human bitch who’d fucking robbed him of that hard-earned money he’d had to summon with his own two hands, **fuck**!

He pulls out of Marco’s tight hole quickly to the base of his cockhead before slamming back in as hard as he can, grunting at the pleasure which lights behind his vision, makes him claw at whatever’s in front of his hands, which just so happens to be Marco’s poor flesh.

Marco arches his back, whines, God, that fucking _ hurt _ just as much as it felt wonderful. He grabs at the back of Tom’s partly shredded shirt, winding his fingers into the holes and pulling as hard as it hurts, which is an _ awful _fucking lot.

But Tom doesn’t care as his shirt is ruined further, doesn’t wait, just pistons in and out of him quickly, powerfully, as hard as his stronger body will allow him, meeting his hips so hard against Marco’s that the human almost seriously wonders if his brittler bones might be pulverized under the stress.

“God, fuck, T-Tom, please, ah!”

“**Please what?**”

Marco feels the pain slowly dissipate, his body either adapting or his mind becoming numb to the pain. “Please, please f-fuck me, ah, make me c-cum, Tom,” he whines.

Tom snickers, “**You’re going to cum, before me?**”

Marco doesn’t really get it himself, but all he knows is that it’s going to happen, the pleasure mounting, his legs twitching, that little ball of molten pleasure in his centre growing liquid hot until it runs through his body as Tom continues to fuck him, his cock pressing against his prostate. He moans, feeling Tom’s claws run up and down his body over old scars from years of adventures, now certainly drawing blood.

Tom thrusts into him from the very tip of his cock to his balls, and that’s what gets him, makes Marco scream as he climaxes, clenching down on Tom’s cock inside of him, spurting semen between their bodies.

But, the thing is, Tom doesn’t stop fucking him.

He just _ keeps going, _ keeps thrusting, keeps pounding him mercilessly, even as Marco screams some more, now in something akin to agony as he’s overstimulated to all hell, he _ just _fucking came, for fuck’s sake!

But Tom doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything he enjoys Marco’s pained cries, filling him full of cock and then emptying him before thrusting back home, not missing a single beat, just enjoying the tightness of Marco’s unwilling hole and his desperate, cloying hands tugging at his hair.

Marco begs him to stop through laboured breaths but Tom just laughs, grabs hold of his thighs and fucks him even harder, deeper with this new and improved angle. His fingers slip with his hard thrusts and puncture the supple flesh of Marco’s legs, rivulets of warm red drawing down his legs and onto his covers, but it only makes Tom even more aroused by instinct.

Marco’s cock barely even becomes erect once again before he’s cumming, noticeably smaller spurts of ejaculate leaving his tip this time, the pleasure duller, now ruined by the knowledge that Tom isn’t going to even slow his hard thrusts.

Tom fucks him for entire minutes like that, pounding him so hard and quick Marco fears his bed might just fucking break—wouldn’t be the first time. Instead, though, the human keeps climaxing, duller now, after the fourth or fifth one, his cock stops even getting hard, just barely noticeable peaks of pleasure indicating his orgasms.

Tom’s thin red tail waves behind him, having slipped free of his pants at some point, lazily moving with the deep, carnal pleasure Marco’s tight, tight hole gives him.

“Please, please, please, Tom, just cum, pl-please,” Marco begs desperately, eyes blurry with tears from the intense overstimulation as he reaches his peak mere seconds after the last one, pleasure a numb sensation at this point.

Tom’s grin clicks above him. “Ah, alright,” he says casually, “but only because I think I’ve fucked all the anger out at this point.”

The demon’s long tongue comes down once again at his throat, nails running up his abdomen and ripping his flesh to ribbons, as he finally, _ finally, _ allows himself to cum. His teeth pierce deep into Marco’s neck, as deep as his teeth will go, rewarded instantly with streams of delicious blood.

He fills Marco’s little hole up with his hot semen, so much of it that it spills out even as he keeps ejaculating more inside.

After nearly a minute of orgasm, Marco having a couple weak ones of his own within that time alone, Tom finally sighs, digging his teeth out to lap at the impressive puncture wounds he left.

A hand slaps down on the bare flesh of Tom’s lower back, just making the demon smile.

“You fucker!” Marco whines, wincing at his broken flesh, looking down in horror to see dozens of thin, jagged lines cut up and down his torso, some filled with blood and trickling with it. He wipes the salty tear stains off his cheekbones, sighing raggedly.

“God, Tom, why the fuck did you have to mark me up _ so _much?” Marco hits his back again half-assedly. “I’m not gonna be able to do anything cool for days at this rate!”

Tom shrugs, giving Marco a shit-eating grin as his face finally comes back into view, red of human blood staining his teeth and tongue as he says, “Hey, well at least _ I’m _not mad anymore!”

Marco begins to move to leap for his throat when he feels his skin twist, looking down to see all of his lacerations have inexplicably healed, the deeper ones closing up before his very eyes. His skin is smooth once again, as though nothing even happened. Even his hole no longer feels used, all traces of demon semen (hah) somehow vanished.

Marco shakes his head even as a smile taints his voice. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Tom cackles.

Marco looks down, suddenly realizing something. “Hey,” he says, feeling around his sheets as he looks about his room like he’s lost, “where’d my game go?”

Tom rolls his eyes, snaps his fingers, and the game system is heavy in Marco’s hands, as though it had never left.

Ah, nice, he’s also wearing clothes again!

“Thanks!” Marco chirps, unpausing and 8-bit sounds fill the room.

Definitely a simpler way of relieving stress, that’s for sure.

**Author's Note:**

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